"Waiting for the Fire?”

So for ten days they waited. They had been promised the Holy Spirit, more than once.

[i] “Fire Lookout” by Carol Aust

Acts 2:1-21

May 24, 2026  

Dr. Todd R. Wright

I recently hiked 110 miles south to Springer Mountain in Georgia on the Appalachian Trail.

One of the nice things about hiking south when everyone else is hiking north was that I often got a preview of what I would be facing from people who had just been there.

For example, I heard all about Albert Mountain and the fire tower at the top.

Built in 1951, 55 feet of steel steps rise from the 5,200-foot summit! It offers spectacular views of the Nantahala mountains and the Little Tennessee River Valley!

The 14 x 14 live-in cabin at the top hasn’t been staffed since the early 1990s because the Forest Service has shifted to drones and webcams, but it got me thinking about waiting for fires.

Wildfire lookouts, like Kelsey, who lives in another tower with her dog, Rufus, will tell you that…

“The best part about living in the tower is you have million-dollar views. You're getting paid to have an intimate relationship with nature. I see so much wildlife. Sunsets are gorgeous. Sunrises are gorgeous. [The] stars are amazing.”[ii]

She elaborates:

“Fire season starts at the end of March, and I'm there full-time until the end of October.

A fire lookout is basically someone that lives in a tower on top of a mountain by themselves and looks for smokes and then calls them in to report fires.”

Can you imagine spending seven months waiting for signs of a fire?

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Luke begins the book of Acts by saying that after 40 days of appearing to his followers and speaking to them about the kingdom of God, Jesus told them to wait in Jerusalem. He promised them that they would receive power; that they would be baptized with the Holy Spirit; and that they would be his witnesses in Jerusalem, in Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth!

So they waited. And waited. And waited.

For ten days they waited.

Seeing that fire tower made me wonder what that waiting was like.

What were they expecting? What were they imagining? What were they fearing?

Sit with that a moment.

Waiting is hard. For nearly two months each of them had whipsawed between devastating Good Friday grief and great Easter joy and the feeling of abandonment post-Ascension; from complete bewilderment to nervous anticipation; between fear of rolling arrests and concern for ongoing harassment. They have stayed together as a group, but that doesn’t mean they haven’t gotten on each other’s nerves, or wrestled with impatience, or felt lonely for their families back home.

Remember that they didn’t know how long the wait would be.

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Jan Richardson captures some of this waiting jumble of emotions in her poem “Stay”:

“I know how your mind rushes ahead,

trying to fathom what could follow this.

What will you do, where will you go, how will you live?

You will want to keep turning toward the horizon,

watching for what was lost

to come back, to return to you, and never leave again.

For now, hear me when I say, all you need to do

is to still yourself, to turn toward one another, to stay.

Wait and see what comes to fill the gaping hole in your chest.

Wait with your hands open to receive what could never come,

except to what is empty and hollow.

You cannot know it now, cannot even imagine what lies ahead, but I tell you the day is coming

when breath will fill your lungs as it never has before,

and with your own ears you will hear words coming to you new and startling.

You will dream dreams and you will see the world ablaze with blessing.

Wait for it.”[iii]

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So for ten days they waited. They had been promised the Holy Spirit, more than once.

Perhaps some of them remembered John the Baptist’s words.

Before Jesus appeared, the prophet told the crowds, “I baptize you with water, but one who is more powerful than I is coming … He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and with fire.”

What kind of fire?

The kind that burns everything to ashes until there is nothing left – like the wind-driven Sandy Fire that broke out on Monday, about 30 miles northwest of LA – the kind of fire lookouts in towers watch for and hope they catch before they get too big?

Or the kind encountered by Moses – a bush that burned but was not consumed.

Lynn Miller is convinced it is the second kind. She writes,

“Seeing the Pentecost fire in that way might help us prepare for a season of Pentecost rather than [just] a day. The fire does not go out but neither does it consume us until there is nothing left.”[iv]

The analogy isn’t perfect, Miller explains. The fire is similar, but the relationship is different:

“Moses stood at a distance, warned from coming closer, watching this miracle of fire as he heard the voice of God. In the Pentecost story, this fire rests on each disciple individually. They are no longer spectators, they are partakers, sharers of the fire. The fire is not a spectacle to be observed but a part of who they now are.”

So on this Pentecost Sunday, we celebrate that the waiting is over! The promised fire has come, and it

[i] “Fire Lookout” by Carol Aust

[ii] Here and following, from https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h2-ReCJp1Mk

[iii] From The Cure for Sorrow, page 133-34

[iv] Here and following, from her reflections on the text, “About the Fire”, 5/8/16